With a stiff back and jet lag beginning to
announce its presence, Harry and his suitcase were now alone on a pavement in a
town boasting a population roughly equivalent to the whole of Norway, outside
the splendid Crescent Hotel. The name was
printed on the door next to three stars.
Oslo’s Chief Constable was not known for largesse with regards to
accommodation for her employees. But
perhaps this one was not going to be too bad after all. There must have been a civil service discount
and it was probably the hotel’s smallest room, Harry reflected.
And it was.
(from The Bat,
by Jo Nesbo)
.
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